By Fourth of July week. I did not go to Oak Lawn this year — decided to stay in Pilsen and see what the neighborhood does for the holiday. What the neighborhood does: fireworks at midnight that are extremely illegal and not very well-aimed, a block party on my street that materialized without announced planning, the smell of grilling from every building. Claudia knocked at six PM and said "There is food on the street" and that was the entire invitation and it was more than enough.
The block party was a revelation: tamales from a neighbor I had not met, three kinds of salsa, a table of things in foil pans, Mrs. Orozco's rice pudding, a man playing guitar who turned out to be Claudia's nephew (the one who does cheap car repairs). I stood on the sidewalk eating a tamale from a woman named Sofia who told me she had made them that morning and I ate three of them and she looked pleased. Felt like I belonged on this block.
Made coleslaw again for the block party — the same recipe, Patty's, apple cider vinegar and celery seed and just enough sugar to round it out. I brought it in the big metal bowl and it was gone within an hour. Sofia tasted it and said "Your mother's?" I said yes, basically. She nodded. She said "You can taste the mother in food if it's good." I thought about that for the rest of the evening. You can taste the mother. I am made of Patty's food and Babcia Rose's food and the kitchens of Oak Lawn. Wherever I go, I carry that.
Called Patty after the block party, from the stairs of my building at nine PM, to tell her about it. She said "You're fitting in." I said yes. She said "Good." And then she said "Are you eating enough?" and I said yes and she said "I'll send some pierogi." She did not send them — they would not survive the mail — but the offer was Patty in pure form: love expressed as food that cannot be logistically delivered.
Sofia’s words stayed with me — you can taste the mother in food if it’s good — and I kept thinking about what it means to bring something to a table full of strangers and have it disappear inside an hour. Patty’s coleslaw has that quality: the vinegar-and-celery-seed brightness that cuts through everything rich and heavy, the kind of slaw that makes people go back for a second scoop. This jicama-cilantro slaw on crispy bean tostadas hits that same note — cool, tangy, alive — and it belongs exactly on a folding table on a Pilsen sidewalk in July, next to tamales and three kinds of salsa, eaten standing up.
Crispy Bean Tostadas with Smashed Avocado and Jicama-Cilantro Slaw
Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 10 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 4 (2 tostadas each)
Ingredients
- For the jicama-cilantro slaw:
- 2 cups jicama, peeled and cut into thin matchsticks
- 1 cup red cabbage, thinly shredded
- 1/2 cup fresh cilantro leaves, roughly chopped
- 2 tablespoons fresh lime juice
- 1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar
- 1 teaspoon honey or agave
- 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
- 1/4 teaspoon ground cumin
- For the smashed avocado:
- 2 ripe avocados
- 1 tablespoon fresh lime juice
- 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
- 1 small clove garlic, minced
- For the bean layer:
- 1 can (15 oz) black beans or pinto beans, drained and rinsed
- 1 tablespoon olive oil
- 1/2 teaspoon cumin
- 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
- Salt and pepper to taste
- For assembly:
- 8 corn tostada shells (store-bought or baked)
- Lime wedges, hot sauce, and extra cilantro for serving
Instructions
- Make the slaw. Combine jicama, red cabbage, and cilantro in a medium bowl. In a small bowl, whisk together lime juice, apple cider vinegar, honey, salt, and cumin. Pour over the slaw, toss well, and set aside to marinate for at least 10 minutes while you prepare the rest.
- Season the beans. Heat olive oil in a small skillet over medium heat. Add drained beans, cumin, smoked paprika, salt, and pepper. Cook, stirring occasionally, for 5–7 minutes until beans are heated through and slightly crisped at the edges. Lightly smash about half the beans with the back of a spoon to create a chunky, spreadable texture.
- Make the smashed avocado. Halve and pit the avocados. Scoop flesh into a bowl and add lime juice, salt, and garlic. Mash with a fork to your preferred texture — leave it a little chunky for bite.
- Crisp the tostada shells. If using store-bought shells, arrange on a baking sheet and warm in a 375°F oven for 4–5 minutes until crisp and lightly toasted. If making from scratch, brush corn tortillas with oil and bake 10–12 minutes, flipping halfway.
- Assemble. Spread a generous spoonful of smashed avocado onto each tostada shell. Top with a scoop of seasoned beans, then pile on a good heap of jicama-cilantro slaw. Finish with a squeeze of lime and hot sauce if desired. Serve immediately.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 340 | Protein: 10g | Fat: 15g | Carbs: 44g | Fiber: 12g | Sodium: 380mg